


From the Crib Into the Ground

by owlaholic68



Series: Noir!AU [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Everyone Is Gay, Gen, Injury, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Swearing, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Trouble always seems to find Henry.





	From the Crib Into the Ground

A scientific mission, though an important enough one that required Henry’s personal presence. Maria had apologized, saying that she couldn’t trust anyone else in the team to be able to pick out the supplies and intel that she needed. And Maria was one of the best strategists in the Enclave, so when she said it was necessary for him to go out in the field, that meant something more than some nobody ordering him around.

Still, that doesn’t mean Henry likes being in the line of danger. He’s gotten this far in life by keeping himself locked in labs and _not_ by breaking into experimental facilities to retrieve something that is dangerous, judging by the way Maria had looked nervous when she had described the object.

“I don’t specialize in bioweapons,” he grumbles to no one in particular.

The headset he’s wearing crackles on with a buzz of static. “I know,” Maria replies, “but I wasn’t about to send Schreber, not with you guys alone in some backwater place. I’d like my team to come back, thank you very much.”

“Ugh.” Henry sticks close to Johnson’s shoulder as the other man deftly unlocks the back door their team is sneaking through. “Don’t even mention him. You should have sent him anyways, but had Daisy come along too so she could make up some story about him hitting on her, just to have an excuse to shoot him.”

“This is a small operation,” Maria argues. “I couldn’t send all of you. Besides, Daisy and I are having a ladies’ night tonight, and Judah is _finally_ finishing that Simone de Beauvoir book so I can read it next. Moreno is doing something, hell if I know or care. And I’m not about to interrupt Friday night hangout.”

“No drinking,” he reflexively says, wishing he’d cleaned his glasses before coming in here. It’s so dark, he’s constantly bumping into Johnson with muttered apologies.

He can almost hear her wave a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not even my doctor, Henry. The higher-ups gave me an OBGYN. No, we’re just painting our nails and eating some of that ice cream you left in the freezer-”

“Maria-” He protests.

“Hey, keep the radio chatter down,” Mark interrupts. A tall presence at Henry’s back, he’s the unofficial commander of this mini-mission. “Maria, darlin’, I love you, but just let us get back to work.”

She chuckles. “Alright. Love you too, babe.” She makes a kissy noise, then the channel falls silent.

Johnson shares a look with Henry and rolls his eyes. Ever since Maria had announced her pregnancy a few months ago, the team’s cutest couple (and only couple) had become even more lovey-dovey.

“Alright, let’s move on. This next door should be what we’re looking for.” Mark gestures at Johnson, who, leading the front of the group, opens the door. This seems to be a storage and containment area. The trio silently file through a narrow hallway made of filing cabinets until they get to the back, where a large refrigerator is flanked by two lab tables. Henry double-checks the specially controlled container slung over his shoulder like a cross body bag. He nods at Johnson, then Mark, then opens the door to the refrigerator.

Every light in the building kicks on. An alarm starts blaring, a flashing red light illuminating their tense faces.

“Fuck!” Mark whirls with his gun at the ready. “We’re going to have company in a minute. There’s four night guards, but they’re coming from the security office down the hall, except for one that should be on the second floor right now.”

Henry frantically pushes aside containers and bottles of questionable substances until he finds what he’s looking for. He throws the sealed box into his container, then seals that. “I got it. Let’s get out of here.”

Contrary to their entry, on their exit Mark leads, then Henry, then Johnson bringing up the rear. This is why Henry _hates_ field missions: something inevitably goes wrong, and always when he’s unarmed and carrying something valuable and potentially unstable.

A sharp turn around a corner brings them into a hail of gunfire. They duck back behind cover, but Henry is encumbered and slow, and he’s not sure he makes it in time. It’s like somebody kicks him in the stomach, and he stumbles. “I’m fine,” he rushes to assure his teammates, even as he wraps an arm around himself and feels the wetness there.

Under the echo of gunfire, he’s not even sure Mark or Johnson heard him, which is all the better, since it leaves them undistracted as they effortlessly take down the security guards. They’re both good shots, especially in such close quarters.

“Oh God, Henry,” Johnson gasps, and is immediately at his side helping lower him to the floor, which is funny, because Henry hadn’t even noticed his knees giving out under him. It’s starting to hurt now. He’s been shot.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “Stop fussing and just get us out of here.”

Mark, after securing the hallway, slips the carrying strap of the sealed container over Henry’s shoulder and hands it to Johnson. With a grunt, he very gently picks Henry up. “Come on, Grumpy,” he says, referencing one of Henry’s least favorite movies. “If you’re going to be like this every field mission, we should just leave you behind. How have we never had a calm, normal mission with you?”

“I don’t know,” Henry grumbles, “but I’m sure it’s my fault somehow. Cosmic forces raining down hate upon me every chance they get.”

* * *

Henry isn’t thinking, obviously. He hasn’t been able to think all day, not with one of the higher-ups hovering over his shoulder, constantly asking stupid questions about his research and poking at every little bit, all because a certain _nosy_ motherfucker named Doctor-goddamn-Schreber had complained about Henry’s work.

If he was thinking, he wouldn’t have slammed the door to his squad’s shared suite closed behind him, and he wouldn’t have screamed “son of a bitch” at the empty kitchen. He wouldn’t have done these things, because he’s not an _idiot._ But since today has been such a terrible day, he might have been a little bit of an idiot, because he forgot one very important new addition to their living quarters.

At the noise, Arcade starts wailing in his crib.

“Fuck me,” Henry mutters, taking his glasses off and turning to knock his head against the wall. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Just because the active members of the team weren’t at home doesn’t mean he’s alone.

“Henry,” Maria pokes her head out of her bedroom, fury in her steely blue eyes. “I swear to God, I _just_ got him asleep, and I am not getting up to do it all over again.”

“Sorry, Maria.” Henry groans and rubs at his eyes. “Bad day. Also, I’m sorry for swearing. Don’t worry, I’ll get him back to sleep. Just rest.”

After splashing some water on his face, Henry goes to fix the problem he created. “Sorry about that, buttercup,” he says, picking up Arcade and rocking him, pacing slowly around the room in a circle. “Doctor Schreber was just pissing me off all day, and I was very frustrated. It’s just that he thinks I’m trying to take his place, when I just want to be left to my own devices, to do my _own_ work.” Arcade quiets, and Henry starts to feel a little silly about venting about his problems to an infant. “Jealousy can irreparably harm any working relationship, and it’s best to avoid all unnecessary contact with other competing scientists, but that insolent bastard – I mean buddy, sorry – insists upon trying to make my life miserable because he knows I’m smarter than him.”

Miraculously, because apparently God is smiling down on him just a little bit today, Arcade yawns, rubs his eye, and is immediately unconscious again. Henry holds his breath, still rocking him, and sets him down in the crib, making sure he’s properly swaddled in blankets. He takes a step away from the crib. Arcade stays asleep, and he stays that way even as Henry slowly backs out of the room and closes the door.

He sighs. At least he could solve _one_ problem today, even if it was an insignificant one.

* * *

Henry wouldn’t consider himself to be particularly empathetic. In fact, he’s quite the opposite, with one exception: he picks up on other people’s anxiety like a sponge in the middle of the ocean.

In this case, it’s the delightful combination of anxiety and frustration and anger that comes from a patented fight between Moreno and Johnson. For some reason, a few years ago, Command had decided upon their squad for a new social experiment to see if living together in one suite, instead of scattered throughout the standard barracks, would improve the team’s cohesiveness. Henry could definitely say, even without seeing the official results, that it wasn’t working.

Seven adults and a toddler weren’t exactly ideal living conditions, especially since they weren’t given a particularly large suite, just big enough for them. And they just so happened to put the entire Enclave’s seven fussiest people in one living space. Take one example of this: laundry.

Judah’s socks get mixed in with Moreno’s. Johnson doesn’t like his socks bunched together, and Mark doesn’t like his socks folded. Maria likes to do laundry at night and Daisy prefers it in the morning. And apparently you’re supposed to separate colors, and everyone gets mad at Henry for not doing that. Arcade, thankfully, has no laundry preferences, because he’s two years old and has other things on his mind.

Somehow, the toddler caused the least of the problems, and actually solved more than he made, since they were all reluctant to openly fight in front of him. However, that made the simmering tensions prick even more insistently at them, until little fights never get chances to turn into big ones, instead building and building and never settling back down-

Henry takes a deep breath and sets down his silverware before clenching his fists in his lap. He just wishes they wouldn’t fight at the dinner table.

“If you would stop shirking your responsibilities, then maybe this wouldn’t happen-” Moreno hisses.

Johnson, sitting to Henry’s left, glares at Moreno, sitting across from Henry. “It’s not shirking if I just refused. You really thought I should be a passive little sheep on this one, obeying orders while the higher-ups tell me to jump off a cliff-”

“Not following orders, oh yeah, a real loyal and helpful member of this team, glad we have you-”

“Not all orders are worth following, Moreno. Maybe if you weren’t such a brainwashed suck-up-”

“Johnson,” Daisy warns, alternating between glaring between them.

“At least I’m not a sissy coward who messes up and gets _both_ of us in trouble-”

Mark and Maria have started paying attention as the fight gets louder. Maria nods at Mark, who quickly lifts Arcade out of his high chair and carries him into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

There’s a hot thrumming of anxiety in the room making Henry’s heart beat too fast, and he struggles to just breathe normally. He should get up and leave too, but he can’t. His legs are frozen numb.

Johnson, now that Arcade isn’t in the room anymore, gets a little bolder and sarcastic. “Yeah, I’m a pansy for not shooting a kid. She couldn’t have been older than Arcade-”

“Who cares?” Moreno throws his hands up and stands. “It’s not our job to ask questions. It’s our job to follow orders, something you’re so fucking _bad_ at somehow-”

“Hey!” Judah stands too and finally intervenes. Moreno and Johnson immediately shut up under the stern gaze of their captain. “Moreno, kitchen. Do dishes. Johnson, just go somewhere else. Your bedroom, the base, I don’t care. Both of you, cool off.”

With one last glare at Johnson, Moreno turns on his heel and stomps into the kitchen. Johnson rises from his seat shakily, and turns the opposite way to lock himself in the bathroom, presumably, as his habit after these sorts of nasty fights.

“Henry?” Daisy quietly says, touching his arm. He jumps. He hadn’t even realized that she’d come over to his side of the table. “You okay?”

He shakes her hand off and abruptly stands. “I’m fine.” In his own ears, he doesn’t sound fine.

The bedroom that he shares with Judah is quiet and empty. Henry sits on his bed and digs his fingernails into his palms, trying to get himself under control. He doesn’t get like this when his coworkers fight, or during one of his many arguments with Doctor Schreber. It’s one thing to have an active part, and another thing to watch it happen, to let it get under his skin.

It’s something else entirely when it’s his team, his friends, his _family_ fighting.

* * *

Undercover missions were boring. Henry has been in this post for three weeks now. Reno is fine, but it’s not quite his scene. There were some interesting parts where he had to get set up and get in with the Families, but once that was done, all he had to do was wait for a certain corpse to show up on his doorstep.

But while they might be boring, these kinds of jobs were also peaceful. There’s something incredibly self-indulgent about going to the grocery store and buying milk, or taking his Enclave-issued car around town, just looking at all of the lights.

Maybe one day, he could have this. He could retire from the Enclave and live a normal life. Buy a house, own a car, take only the clients he wants. Find somebody to settle down with, a guy who wouldn’t ask too many questions about his past or his work. Henry could care less about the grand plan that the Enclave had. But a normal life has its appeals, enticing aspects that grow even more tempting each day that he stays here.

That peace is broken the same day Carla visits him for information. A mere ten minutes after her car pulls away, another one takes its place, parking in the short driveway in front of the house. Henry peeks out the window and watches. Once he sees the insignia on one of the man’s chests, he’s at the door when they knock.

“Sanders and Quincy.” Sanders’ voice is gruff. Henry winces. He’s only met the Colonel a few times, and it had not left a favorable impression on him. But he opens the door anyways.

“What do you want?” He snaps, then his face falls. “Arcade? What you doing here – what happened?”

Sanders shoves the kid, recently turned three years old, into Henry’s arms. “The Gannon’s mission failed.”

No. Not the Gannons. Henry swallows hard and pushes down the grief that rises in him at the abrupt news. “And the rest of the Devil’s Brigade?” If they’re giving Arcade to him and not one of them-

“They’re only on the first leg of their mission, and they’ve got another mission lined up as soon as they get back to base. Until further notice, he’s under your care.” Sanders pushes an envelope into Henry’s hands. “Good work with the detective.”

He slams the door in Henry’s face.

The first thing Henry want to do is scream. They had the audacity to just throw a newly orphaned child at him with no warning, not even asking if he wanted this responsibility. What’s more, Arcade doesn’t even have any of his belongings. He’s clutching a small stuffed toy, some sort of lizard, but besides the clothes on his back, that’s it. It’s cruel and it’s unfair and Henry wants nothing more than to open the door and give those soldiers a piece of his mind.

The next thing that he wants to do is cry. He’s never been particularly sentimental, but the Gannons were his close friends, his family. Mark was like a brother to him, and Maria was as close to a sister as he’d ever had. But instead of crying, he takes a deep breath. They’re relying on him. He’s been entrusted with their precious son. He can’t let them down.

Speaking of, Arcade looks like a disaster. He’s crying in that slow quiet way that means he’s been at it for a while.

“Have you had lunch yet?”

Arcade shakes his head no. Henry sighs. “Okay, I can whip something up for us.”

“Not hungry.”

“I know. That's fine.” Henry rubs his back and walks into the small kitchen of this house. “How about just a glass of milk. It would make me feel better if you had something.”

While Arcade half-heartedly sips his glass of milk, Henry opens the envelope Sanders had given him. There’s money inside. Not a lot, only a hundred dollars. But it’ll be enough to get Arcade some clothes, at least a set of pajamas and a few outfits.

And then what? They stay here waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the Enclave to come back and take them back to Navarro? Arcade didn’t like it there, Henry could tell. It was cold and dark and most of the personnel didn’t like a kid underfoot.

There was another reason that Navarro wasn’t the best place for him. It’s a secret that Henry had overheard in a lab, one that he had never told anyone else about. There was an experimental program they were considering, codenamed Project Beanstalk. The object of study: how young could a child start to be trained to be an Enclave officer? How would age affect how effective and obedient that officer was?

There was only one child in the base. There was never any doubt who Project Beanstalk would be focused on.

“Okay.” Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. He had never planned for this. It’s overwhelming to even think about, let alone do. “Okay. We need to go to the store. You need clothes and a suitcase, and we need food. I need to trade in my car for something different.”

“What? What’s going on? What are we doing?”

“We’re running.”

* * *

Henry shakes the thermometer in one hand before sticking it in Arcade’s mouth. “I know it itches, buttercup, but don’t scratch. It’ll only make it worse. I can go to the store today and pick up some anti-itch cream for you.”

A case of chickenpox, mild but annoying, had struck the household, specifically Arcade. This is the second day, and the poor kid was miserable. Thankfully, they were in an apartment right now, not between houses or in a motel room, so they had a kitchen and proper beds.

The phone rings. “I’ll be right back,” Henry promises. “Keep the thermometer in your mouth. I need to make sure your fever isn’t too high.”

Who could be calling him? “Hello, this is Henry.”

“You said it would be done yesterday,” the voice on the other end says. “You’re late.”

Damnit. One of his clients hadn’t been happy with the delay in his project. “I apologize,” he stiffly says, “something came up. A family emergency. I’ll have it done by tonight.”

“You’d better, or we’re going to have a problem.” They hang up.

Henry sighs. Even now that the Enclave is gone, trouble still follows him around. He has to take any client who will pay, even those that are less than trustworthy. And taking care of a sick kid on top of that doesn’t help. But he’s in no spot to complain. He made this choice, and now he needs to stick with it.

“I’m back,” he says. “Just a work call. Oh good, your fever has gone down slightly. We’re still in the clear.” The last thing he wants is to have to take him in, but thankfully this isn’t serious enough for that. “Listen, I have to finish something up real quick. Try to get some rest, and we’ll try a bath later.” As he has his hand on the door handle, Arcade speaks up, his voice a dry croak.

“Thank you, Henry.”

Henry smiles. “Anything for you, Arcade.”

* * *

Living with the team is different this time around. Everyone has changed, for better or for worse. There’s still something that feels right about being back together again. A bigger house, different living arrangements.

Sharing a room with Moreno is different than rooming with Judah, but it’s still quiet. Henry gets the feeling that Johnson would be a chatty roommate. And their room is right next to Arcade’s, so he’s still in easy reach in case something bad happens. Not that much happens these days. It’s better that way. It’s what Henry’s always wanted: no fights with other squads, no competition with other scientists, no constant dissatisfaction with his life.

That doesn’t mean it’s perfect, though. Nothing ever is. But it’s as close as he’s going to deserve.

The lights are still on in the house when Henry comes home. He squints at his watch, but he can’t read it with his blurry vision. Fuck, he thought it was later. But it seems as if there will be no avoiding them seeing him.

He closes the car door behind him and walks to the front door, relying on muscle memory more than his impaired vision. He’s nearly blind without his glasses, which were broken beyond repair. It was enough of a challenge driving home without them. He fumbles for the door and manages to open it.

“Henry, you’re home-” Daisy cuts herself off with a gasp as she sees him. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

Judah peeks in from the kitchen with a frown, where the clatter of dishes can be heard. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” He waves away their concerns, leaning on the wall to take off his shoes. He hasn’t had the chance to properly look at his injury, just a quick glance in the rearview mirror of the car, showing that it looked much worse than it felt. “Just a small incident-”

“Henry?”

Henry winces. “Arcade, don’t worry. It’s not serious.” He almost wants to tell him not to look, but that would imply that he had a serious injury. “Could you go upstairs and get my spare pair of glasses, please?” He hears the patter of small feet running up the stairs, and breathes easier knowing that one cause for concern is out of the way.

“Let’s get you an icepack,” Daisy says, taking his arm to lead him into the kitchen. She pushes him into a chair at the kitchen table, then opens the freezer. A bag of frozen peas is put in Henry’s hand. He raises it to his right eye, where a nasty-looking black eye is forming.

“What happened?” Judah’s voice is quiet but intense, worried.

“A client was dissatisfied with my work,” Henry responds, deciding to keep the more concerning details out of the story. “He made the grave mistake of threatening me, then when that didn’t work, he decided to point out another, more vulnerable, target. I couldn’t let him put you all in danger, so I shot him.” Henry shifts the makeshift ice pack, wincing. “He had a guard who got a hit off on me before I could take him down. But it’s all taken care of now.”

“Our regular ol’ nerd badass,” Moreno mutters from behind him, his voice quiet under the noise of the sink and the dishes that he and Johnson are washing.

Judah puts a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Henry-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he snaps. “I’ll be more careful. This one seemed fine at first.”

“Henry, you just need to stop this altogether,” Judah insists. “We’ll do okay without you working for a while-” He cuts himself off as small sock-clad feet run down the stairs. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Arcade is out of breath. “I got your glasses, are you okay-”

“Thank you. I’m fine.” Henry vaguely squints in Arcade’s direction. “It’s just a black eye. Do you want to see?” At Arcade’s anxious nod, he uncovers his injury.

“Ew.”

Henry chuckles and puts the ice pack back on. “I know. You know how you tripped at the park last week and got that bruise on your knee? This is just like that, but on my eye.” He frowns. “Speaking of falling, what did I tell you about running on the stairs?”

“Sorry.” Arcade climbs up onto Henry’s lap. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” Henry smiles reassuringly. “Don’t ever worry about me, buttercup. I may get into spots of trouble, but nothing I can’t get myself out of.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Henry asks.

Like the two other times he’s asked, Moreno doesn’t answer.

“Moreno.” Henry’s worry is quickly morphing into fear. “Moreno, answer me.” They’re passing through more and more suburban streets, until the city falls away behind them and only the desert awaits. But they’re not going north to the bunker, instead heading east out of town. “Moreno, tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to jump out of the car.”

“Wow, Henry, paranoid much?” Moreno chuckles, then turns onto an unpaved road and pulls the car to the side. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

The tone of his voice is a little too menacing for comfort. Henry swallows hard and wishes that he’d told someone, anyone, that they were going on this little “errand”. “Is this about what we talked about last week?”

Moreno chuckles. “Always too smart for your own good, Henry. Yes, it is.”

“I told you that I wanted no part of that!” Henry feels a cold flicker of icy apprehension trickle down his spine. “I thought you agreed to drop it! So what is all _this_ about?”

“I’m giving you another chance to say yes.”

“Well, I refuse. My answer is still no, Moreno.” His heart is pounding in his ears, even as he tells himself that nothing is going to happen. This is _Moreno,_ his brother in everything but blood. “There. You got your answer. Let’s go back.”

Moreno looks to the side and sadly smiles, then turns back to Henry with a far more sinister smile on his face. “I’m sorry, Henry. We’re not going back.”

Somehow, trouble like this always finds Henry. He barely has the chance to gasp in surprise before something hits the back of his head with a pounding _thunk,_ and the last thing he sees is the dashboard coming up to meet him.

**Author's Note:**

> Henry...stop giving me inspiration to write...please...At least he gets to be happy(ish?) this time. Also, laundry squabbles inspired by my own family, all of whom seem to have different ideas about laundry. Also, the segments take place about a year apart from each other.
> 
> Title from "Ruby" by the Apples in Stereo. 
> 
> This is the seating arrangement:
> 
> \-----Daisy-Moreno-Mark-------  
> Judah------------------Arcade  
> \-----Johnson-Henry-Maria------


End file.
